


The first day of the rest of your afterlife

by Minutia_R



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Afterlife, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: Emil is dead.  And then there's the bad news.





	The first day of the rest of your afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> I've been posting some ficlets that had previously only been on tumblr; this is the last of of them, at least for now. It was written for the Synchronised Screaming prompt _Emil - failed first impressions._

Suddenly--

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

Around Emil, the battle is still going on. He can hear the sharp reports of rifles, the howls of trolls, screams, but it all sounds like it’s coming from far away. Has something gone wrong with his ears? He should get up. He should help. It all seemed so important a minute ago. Maybe he’ll just lie here a little longer.

No. He can’t--Emil gets up. His body continues to lie on the ground, limbs flung outward at odd angles, a great gaping hole in his chest.

“This is not happening,” says Emil. “I refuse to believe it.”

He closes his eyes. Or whatever he has. Damn it, his eyes. When he opens them again, he’ll be back in his bed, and this will have been a bad dream. Or he’ll be in a hospital bed, he’ll take that. Or even in the thick of the battle, he’ll take the pain back and the fear and everything--

He opens his eyes. His body is still on the ground. He’s still not in it. He tries kicking it, and his boot goes right through.

“Get up, stupid!” he snarls. The body doesn’t seem to hear. The eyes are wide and glassy.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine! Fine, I’m dead, and my … my spirit is still around, and it’s wearing some stupid fairytale outfit, and there’s probably some ugly barbarian valkyrie somewhere waiting to take me to fucking Valhalla or something--”

A tap on his shoulder.

“--and she’s standing right behind me, isn’t she.”

Emil doesn’t even turn around. He just lowers his face into his hands. He hasn’t even been dead for an hour, and already he’s made an immortal enemy.

**Author's Note:**

> Elleth wrote an excellent continuation to this story which you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10082138/chapters/24971052).


End file.
